That said, I’ll respond as if this blog entry is hot off the presses.

FWIW, my wife and I, although we are in the process of pulling our financial act together as a prelude to a divorce, we have been working well together as a parenting team. If one of us can’t do something that needs to be done, the other can and does pick up the slack. So… we have everything we need, right?

No. Our oldest son, like your son, went through a thing about band-aids. He needed band-aids for everything. Not just cuts and scrapes and bruises and leg aches, but also headaches and runny noses. Weird but true.

His younger brother (who is currently doing the night-time potty training thing, which is a joy and a half when you’re changing sheets and attempting to change the underwear of an uncooperative four-year-old at 3am, trying to not let his crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth wake up the baby in the next room, or his mother, or his older brother down the hall) also has a band-aid thing. He hates them. He won’t abide them AT ALL. And, what four-year-old boy doesn’t occasionally scrape or cut his knees or hands? He could be bleeding a geyser of blood and refusing to let you try to clean and cover the wound.

I have yet to take any of my boys out and spend much time throwing a football, although I take them to the park when I can so they can ride their bikes/trikes. Their mother, like you, also takes them on outings. But we both are stretched thin with work and doctors appointments and school and play dates and so on.

Here’s what I’m trying to say:

* Your son is weird. But not because you’re a bad mommy. It’s because *all* boys are weird. They *all* do weird things. Most of those are phases. Most of those go by the wayside. Those that don’t become quirks, and we all have those too. Even those of us who grew up in “normal” households with a traditional working father and stay-at-home mother. And who has that any more?

* YOU are doing amazing by your son. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Don’t let YOU tell you otherwise. You’re doing the best with what you have. Your situation sucks. It sucks sucks sucks sucks. But YOU do not. And your son does not. YOU deserve a medal for all you do.

* I fear about my future as a single dad. I fear about my relationship with my boys. I’ve allowed my fear to paralyze me in many ways, and am just now shaking myself past it. I have huge doubts. (And here, I thought I was the only one. Hey, Carolyn — it’s not just moms who cling to guilt and fear, you know.) But the best I can do is… the best I can do.

Carolyn makes a good point. While you worry about what your son might be missing, your son will look back and appreciate what he had. You are spending time with him, trying your best by him. That counts.

I realize that several other commenters here have already expressed similar sentiments, but really, can you hear it too many times? You rock. Your son is fortunate to have a mother who loves him so much. It’s okay to feel shitty (at least, I hope it is, because I feel that all too often), but know that it’s the situation that’s bad, not you.

Go, Mama!

I know it’s different. I’m a girl, not a boy. But I was a three year old only child when my parents divorced. My dad wasn’t all that present either. And although my mother did remarry and even go on to have more children, when I look back to days in my childhood that I loved the most; it is the days my mom and I were alone.

I don’t know what it was. The sense of camaraderie, teamwork or simply being her ‘only’. But those were glory days. The days of us being a dynamic duo. I loved them.

And yeah, there were things I missed. I didn’t have someone teach me how to ride a two wheeler or to swim or ice skate until my stepfather came into the picture. But none of that mattered in comparison.

I hope that gives you a little comfort.

2. Our sons are the same age, their fathers are equally as absent and until recently mine was in day care three full days a week and with his father on the other two and on one night. Yuck. One thing you didn’t write about here is the fatigue you must feel working full-time. You are working your ass off. You are doing what you have to do to keep the two of you alive and well - quite literally. Your ex is not. You are an amazing fucking mother. Period.

Now, over these past three years I have welcomed and encouraged dads at the park to play with Benjamin, recognizing and being the first to admit that I know nothing about sports or guy stuff. It’s hard to do but I did it. You feel there is a void but I think every mother does - no matter what her status.

3.”I am fairly convinced that I will never find someone to love and love me and my son.” - why are you convinced of this? It’s just not logical. You have to change this mindset to “The man who falls in love with both of us will be so lucky and I will deserve his love.”

God, I sound so fucking cheesy.

G - “nuclear” families - yeah, does not conjure up anything all that peaceful lol…

You will find men in your life, his life and even in the playground that will lend their support as a male role model.

It will be enough. Especially because you love your son with the kind of love many never experience. It must be hard being a single mom. So, so hard. But without a doubt, you’re doing brilliantly. Its just probably hard to tell from where you stand, in the thick of things.